


Arm pen pal

by Karigan0



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rigel Black Chronicles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karigan0/pseuds/Karigan0
Summary: [Fanfiction of murkybluematter’s Rigel Black Chronicles]In a world where people get a magical pen pal at birth, Harriett Potter recieved several pen pals who would do their best to look after her. Will they manage to lighten her burden or would they make it worse? One thing is for sure : Harriett Potter didn't make their work easy.
Comments: 29
Kudos: 107
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Appreciation





	1. The chatterboxes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone ! First, all my thanks go to distracteddaydreamer for her wonderful beta job to make that first chapter as great as it is now.
> 
> It was suppose to be a One Shot, but my words count decided otherwise. I hope it would occupy you a little during that long wait that we all go through when waiting for Violet's next chapter. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it !

Every witch and wizard was given an ‘arm pen pal’ at birth. Some legends say it was a link shared by two soul mates. People destined to always love each other. But in a world where marriage is political, arm pen pals are hindrances. The legends were deliberately forgotten and replaced with new stories. The common wisdom changed :

_You should never try to find your arm pen pal._

One legend tells the story of a young and promising prince, looking for his arm pen pal. He exchanged sweet words with his pen pal and, after a lot of persuasion, he managed to find the sweet girl’s home. However, she was not the demure and charming girl he had imagined she would be. She was a half-human, half-squid monster. Her teeth were sharp enough to eat the poor prince alive and she did. He should never have asked for more than conversations. His greed got punished.

That was the story for the younger kids. Later, they were told that whoever identified their arm pen pal would lose that link. They would be alone, with no one to share their innermost thoughts with. But this legend was false. People were able to prove that. What prevented most witches and wizards from searching for their arm pen pal was admitting to themselves that they were not talking with an angel or any deity. The person on the other side was human. And once they met, there would be no turning back. They could use each others secrets against them. They have flaws. They could fight with each other and lose forever their friendly pen pal. 

Hence, noble kids were educated to not converse with their arm pen pal. Officially, such an act was unworthy of a noble. Of course, many of them did use it, but kept any important information to themselves. The original purpose of arm pen pals was lost to them.

In Harry’s family, everyone knew everyone’s arm pen pals. James was Lily’s, and Sirius was Remus’s and Diana’s. Strangely enough, when Sirius wrote in his arm, it appeared on both of them, and if Remus or Diana wrote, it would only appear on Sirius. Harry asked about it when she was little, but her parents asked her to keep it quiet. Having more than one arm pen pal was a bad omen.

She didn’t understand it until she turned eight and Aunt Diana was buried. Having more than one arm pen pal usually meant that one of them would die too early to be considered a _life pen pal_.

The best explanation Harry found on arm pen pal was thanks to a very old Potter journal. Inside, one of her ancestors told a legend that had never before reached Harry's ears.

A long time ago, there was a very powerful wizard. He crossed the world, helping those in need, researching a way to save the world from the usual plagues: famine, sickness, despair. He searched, searched and searched. He trekked through desert, jungle, snow, rain, storms, _alone_. Then, he met a young merchant. They became friends, and traveled together for a year. After, their paths diverged, but they kept in touch through letters.

The powerful wizard managed to grow plants in parched fields, saving farmers from the famine. He discovered how to use wildflowers to cure most of this century’s sickness and reduce infant mortality. But when Death came to ask for his life, he still had not managed to destroy despair. He had known his life’s work to eradicate suffering would not succeed. After all, he could not make people immortal. Yet most of all, he had wanted to erase despair. People had to die, yes, but he wanted them to enjoy life as long as they had it. So, he begged Death for more time.

Death is used to begging. She have been picking souls for hundred of million of years. She have been through as much begging. She did not flinch. Humans were selfish, believing themselves better than the others creatures, rejecting those who were different. Death hated them. She had took away uncountable living things. She shouldn’t care for one other.

Yet, that man in front of her was none of that. He wasn’t asking for a selfish reason. He was asking for the well-going of others he didn’t even know. Others who may have been mean to him. Others who threw rocks at him. Death saw him fought all his life for the others, forgoing his own happiness.

So, Death took pity on him. She couldn’t give him more time, but she could give him something else.

_One wish. I could grant you one wish._

The wizard raised his head. One wish from Death? He could ask for anything. He could ask her to destroy despair. His life long dream could become true. It was going to be so easy in the end! He was ready to ask, the demand burning his throat, but Death cut him off.

_Think well. Your wish could be a blessing or a new plague. Be certain. If I realise_ _your desire, what is going to happen?_

The wizard thought quickly, what harm could destroying despair create? Without it, all those people he had met would have lived happily. Without it, he wouldn’t have traveled the world, looking for cures and removing starvation.

Without despair, he wouldn’t have tried to make the world a better place. If he erased despair, humanity would happily sink into apathy. He shouldn’t remove despair.

Miserable, the wizard took out of his mantle the last letter of his pen pal. Those letters always cheered him up. Without them, loneliness would have eaten him alive years ago. He read the words one more time, hoping Death would let him take the letter to the other side, when an idea came to his mind.

_Pen Pal_. The wizard said _. I want everyone to enjoy what I had. Someone to talk with. A friend, always by their side, cheering them up when they need it. Someone to share their fear, happiness, and discovery with._

Death looked at him.

_Then,_ _Pen Pal it would be._

Since then, every witch and wizard was given an arm pen pal to brighten their days through the hard times. Someone to travel with, without needing to be side by side. 

* * *

[HpHpHp]

Harry wondered who her arm pen pal was. She thought it might be Archie, but Lily prohibited them from testing. When Lily was a kid, she had a lot of problems with James writing to her incessantly before she learned she was a wizard. She had thought she was going crazy, writing on herself and forgetting afterwards. She hurt herself, trying to stop the devil who took possession of her arm. The words refused to disappear with soap. When the words wrote themselves on her arm while someone was watching, she got called a witch. Since usually the arm pen pals were of the same age, in case one of them had a Muggleborn arm pen pal, Lily asked them to at least wait until they were eleven years old. She asked even for twelve, but didn’t expect them to listen. The minimum in her mind was to wait for the first day of school. If their arm pen pal was a Muggleborn, they could ask one of their teachers for some explanation and avoid all the torments Lily went through. 

Archie wasn’t happy with this situation, especially if Harry was his arm pen pal; they would have to wait several years to write to each other and draw on each others arms magically. But Lily warned him that she had hated James for almost a decade because of his impatience. When she discovered who he was, she even told him false advices to make the beautiful red-haired girl he meet at the station fall for him. Telling him to stay away from her, to play the mysterious stranger who is always more than ten feet away.

Unfortunately, James didn’t bother following her advices, and she ended up with him after several more years of courting. Well, if he had followed her advices, she would have married another guy. And somewhere in the road, he discovered she was his pen pal, which didn’t pleased Lily much. It marked the end of her (failing) manipulation of him.

Archie felt panicked at this idea. If anything, the idea of being hated for years because he wrote on someone else’s arm without permission kept him from even thinking of it. Harry also agreed to wait, not sure if she wanted an arm pen pal in the first place. She wasn’t really talkative, so she would be a punishment to whoever happen to get her. Maybe she didn’t get any? But it was fine. She had Archie, her family, and her potions. She didn’t need more.

* * *

[HpHpHp]

She didn’t need more, but she _got_ more. One day, she was stirring a potion from her book, when her arm tickled. Afraid she might have accidentally gotten some drop of her potion on her arm, she rolled up her sleeve, ready to wipe it in a hurry. However, she didn’t get a burn but words.

_I’m Fred._

Harry looked at the words, astonished. Her arm pen pal was contacting her. Why? Why now? Who? Who was writing on her arm without warning? She wasn’t ready! She was in the middle of a potion. And why did he give his name? The first rule of arm pen pal was to not let your identity be revealed. Giving his name was the worst idea ever.

She didn’t get enough time to react before her arm tickled again. Half on the already written sentence, another appeared.

_I’m George._

Great. She end up with a madman. Or someone with a dual personality. Forget the idea of soul mates, this coupling must have been done at random. Goodbye good dream of potion talk with her arm pen pal. Welcome undesired words writing themselves on her arm.

She fixed her sleeve back in place, protecting her from splashes and continued brewing, unable to put away the thought of the words on her arm. If the person on the other end was insane, she had better try to avoid answering. He would get bored, maybe thinking his arm pen pal either died or that he doesn’t have one, and Harry would pretend for the rest of her life that she never had one too. She had potions, and it was enough, thank you very much. 

But her pen pal didn’t get bored. Words kept writing themselves on her arm for weeks and weeks.

_George said I didn’t press the feather hard enough._

_Fred said I didn’t think of you enough._

_How old are you? Do you go to school?_

_I want a Quaffle_ _for Christmas, but Mom said I didn’t deserve it. Could you ask for one and send it to me?_

_Do you know how to write?_

_Mom said you could be a Muggleborn. Do you know magic? It’s real._

_I’m Gred today._

_I’m Forge today._

_To answer, take a feather and write on your arm, thinking of me. I’m a good looking red haired boy._

_Why don’t you answer?_

_Are you a baby? Try to drool on your arm._

_Are you blind? Draw a cross if you are._

_I changed my mind, I don’t want baby drool on my arm, even coming from you._

_My twin’s arm pen pal doesn’t answer neither_ _. Do you happen to have a twin as close-lipped as you? It would be so cool if we had twin arm pen pals!_

Harry frowned while reading the last sentence. Could it be that for weeks, she got both of the twins writing on her? She knew that several arm pen pals was possible. And, wouldn’t it make sense for twins to get the same pen pal? Maybe even Fate couldn’t tell them apart and found it easier to treat them as one.

Or, her crazy arm pen pal could have thought he had a twin when, in fact, he just had a split personality. That would make sense. And, in that case, she’d rather avoid speaking with him.

_I began a competition with my twin. The first one to get an answer will win._

_I bet that I could get an answer out of you before my twin gets one out of his arm pen pal._

_Don’t you want to help me win? I’ll get you chocolate if you do._

_We’re a team! Let’s win! Just take a pen._

_You know, it’s called arm pen pal, but if we write somewhere else it may appear nonetheless. Wanna try?_

_I talked with my bro, and we got an awesome idea! Wait for tomorrow morning, you’re in for a big surprise!_

Harry didn’t like those two sentences that only mean trouble. And as a Marauder’s daughter, she knows what she was talking about.

Without any surprise, she woke up with ‘ _I am the best!_ ’ on her right cheek and ‘ _No, it’s me!’_ on her left.

Tired of her not-just-arm pen pal, she grabbed a pen and wrote on the back of her left hand _‘Neither of you is_ ’.

* * *

[TwTwTw]

Fred and George waited for years to be allowed to contact their arm pen pal, because their mother refused to let them do it, a mix between ‘they may be Muggleborn’ to ‘we don’t know who their parents are’, passing by ‘you are going to corrupt them’. So, once they entered Hogwarts, and made themselves comfortable, they tried contacting their arm pen pal. As good Gryffindors, they began by telling their names. If one of their arm pen pals was at Hogwarts, he would know who they were. So, they waited. For an answer or someone presenting himself with their words on his arm.

But no one came and no answer wrote itself on their arms. So, they tried again, giving each others names away. No one at Hogwarts would ignore who they were. They could give their family name, but their Mom would freak out if they did. It was already bad enough they gave so many clues about their identities.

Still, no reply. They began creating theories as to why neither of them got answers, and they kept on writing. They would get an answer. They were the Weasley Twins after all. No one could shut them.

“Maybe he doesn’t like chocolate,” thought George aloud. A feature on his hand, he was determined to win the pen pal competition against his twin. “I should bribe him with something else. But who doesn’t like chocolate?”

“Try eggplants,” Fred advised, getting his pen out of his bag. “People loves eggplants!”

George almost followed his brother advice when his brain stopped him and he jumped. “You’re lying! You’re sabotaging us! That’s cheating!”

“You’re jealous because I’m in the best team,” Fred smiled proudly. “Don’t worry, I will still have time for you between the endless discussions with my _talking_ pen pal.”

“You’ll disenchant when mine is going to ask for his birthday gift.” George sat back on his bed. “What should I promise him for it?”

The two twins were lost in their thoughts when their third roommate walked in.

“Hey guys, what are you doing? Bothering your arm pen pals again?”

The twins shout at the same time.

“We’re not bothering them!”

“We’re illuminating their days!”

Lee laughed. “Sure, you are. They must be delighted to have you. Well, and thankful your only their _arm_ pen pal.”

A smile on the face, he went back to the Common Room, missing the twins sharing a glance.

Who said it was only arm?

Devilish smiles found their way onto both their face.

"Thank you Lee."

And the next day, they innocently wrote on their cheek. If one of their arm pen pals was at Hogwarts, they would know right away. They opened their eyes, looking at everyone cheeks, and widened their ears for anyone who might, strangely, be declining to enter the Great Hall to eat breakfast _coincidentally_ today.

Their arm pen pal wasn’t at Hogwarts. Or, as the name said, they were only _arm_ pen pal.

Downhearted, the twins were sulking during McGonagall’s lesson, sitting beside each other. Their best idea failed miserably. How were they going to made their pen pals react now?

Fred pouted, not the less interested by the lesson, when he felt his hand tickle. His eyebrow twitched, and he glanced at his hand to find the answer he was waiting for for months.

_Neither of you is_

Fred blinked. He got an answer! His pen pal reacted! After months of attempt, he did it!

Then, Fred frowned. He wrote ‘ _I am the best!_ ’ on his right cheek. That answer doesn’t make sense. How could he have guessed his twin wore a matching declaration on his cheek? Was he from Hogwarts after all? Did they miss him at breakfast?

He turned to share his joy with his twin, and, maybe, show off a little, when he saw the exact same words written on his twin’s left hand. The twins shared a glance. Did they have the same arm pen pal? Either that or two really similar twins. Fred put his hand next to George’s. The writing, position and color were perfectly identical. They almost jumped with joy, but McGonagall saw them smiling brightly and brought them back to earth with two punishments with Snape. That didn’t get the twins down their cloud —their arm pen pal answered!— but that helped keep them in control until the end of the lesson.

* * *

[HpHpHp]

Maybe answering wasn’t a good idea. But it was to late, and Harry didn’t want to take her words back. She went down to her family breakfast with the sentences written on her face, entertaining her whole family.

"You got another James," Her mother said pityingly while putting the food on the table. "Maybe the girls of our family are cursed?"

"It’s a girl," Her father decided while bringing the milk. "We can call her Ira."

"Why would Harry’s arm pen pal be a girl?" asked Sirius, to his cereal bowl. "And Ira is lame."

"It’s Harry, backwards," James explained, falling in a seat next to his friend. "And no boy writes on my daughter cheeks like that!"

"Your reasoning is indisputable," Remus remarked wryly, cutting the bread quickly as Archie came to steal a piece.

"Did you answer?" Her cousin asked, a bread slice on his mouth.

"Kind of," She took a chair and bent to take the fruit juice, letting everyone read the words on her hand.

Archie pouted. "That means we are not arm pen pals! Aunt Lily! Let me write on my arm! Harry already did! That’s unfair!"

"Harry got contacted first." Lily calmed. "And you’ll be allowed to pretty soon."

"It’s not my arm, it’s my hand." Harry commented with a machiavellian smile.

Archie sulked and soon everyone left to do their activities. James and Lily went to work, Sirius and Archie took a walk together, Remus opened a book, and Harry went to the basement to make some potion.

She passed the step four when her arm tickled again. Used to it, after weeks of nonstop chatter from the twins, she continued to brew.

Focused on her brew, she forgot everything until dinner. The lunch was lost somewhere between her potion thoughts, and she only remembered before sleeping to take a look at her arm. She pulled up her sleeve that she always wore long to prevent her family from seeing all the information her pen pals gave out, and saw her arm blackened. The twins must have written everywhere on their arms, not thinking that they would write on top of each other. They were not the smartest. And yes, they were twins, she was sure of that now. She had felt words being written at the same time and that could only mean that several people had written on their arms. Harry already tried to write on her father so that it could appear on her mother, but only the arm pen pal could. So, twins it was.

She let go of it. She doesn’t care much about what they wrote, as long as they stopped writing on her face. 

* * *

[HpHpHp]

Harry’s arm stayed black for days. Either the twins never washed, or they wrote again, waiting for a reply. Since she couldn’t guess the words on her, she gave up understanding them. She had more important matters. Like, _brewing_.

* * *

[MmMmMm]

_Why don’t you answer us?_

_Don’t you have any ink?_

_Mom pitied you. She said she was sorry to have made two of us._

_We also have three older brothers, one smaller and a little sister._

_Quiet, aren’t you?_

_Do you have brothers and sisters?_

_If you don’t, you can have some of ours._

_We don’t mind sharing with you._

_Do you have a pet?_

_Where do you live?_

_Can we call you Angel?_

_Why don’t you answer?_

_Don’t you like us?_

_Lee said we must be bothering you._

_We aren’t, are we?_

_I’m bored._

_Angel_ _, don’t you like talking with us?_

_Why don’t you answer?_

_Do we need to write on our face again for you to reply?_

* * *

[HpHpHp]

_Do we need to write on our face again for you to reply?_

This time, Harry couldn’t ignore it anymore. She grabbed a pen and wrote on her arm before going to sleep.

_Do that again, and I will put all your organs in my cauldron._

The next morning, she ignored her arm, got dressed up, ate breakfast with her family and brewed. She didn’t look at her arm until she was ready for bed, like usual. She didn’t know when it became an habit to wait for the end of day. It was just easier since they wrote at any time. Her brewing was less disturbed that away. She rolled up her sleeve, ready for a fast reading before dismissing the words. Once again, the twins wrote on each other sentences, preventing Harry from reading anything out of the black mess her arm looked like. Really, not the smartest.

Soon, it has been a year since the first words of the twins.

* * *

[MmMmMm]

_I got an A on the last test!_

_The teachers ask us to show our arm at every test. Said someone might use his arm pen pal to cheat._

_Isn’t that a good idea?_

_What’s the answer to question b?_

_Don’t forget to wash just after._

_We got detention._

_Can you write the answers in a coded language ? Draw a flower for the first answer, a tree for the second and a sun for the last._

_Don’t listen to my brother! The tree has to be the answer three!_

_I changed my mind, the first must be a fist. Hope you draw well._

_Angel, yellow, green or blue ?_

_We choose green._

_We got detention._

_We put a mouse in the Defense Against the Dark Art class, don’t go there._

_Mom sent us a howler._

_I wonder if Ron was frightened when Mom recorded it at home._

_Percy said we were the worst brothers._

_We found a secret passageway!_

_Angel, A or B?_

_I’ll try B, tell Gred to choose A._

_We got detention._

_It’s sunny outside._

_Next year, we’re going to enter the Quidditch team !_

_Can you fly, Angel?_

_We made birds with our exam paper on transfiguration. It was in theme._

_But we got detention._

* * *

[HpHpHp]

Harry became used to reading the messages on her arm before going to sleep without answering. But once, while she was brewing, she saw a word under her sleeve that made her break her habit.

_… poison?_

Her heart jumped, scared, and she rushed to look at her arm.

_What’s the name of the stone to get rid of poison?_

Maybe it was one of the twins exam questions. Or maybe they got in trouble, again. Last time, they went to the infirmary for a week because of one of their failed pranks. In case it was a life threatening question, Harry ran to her desk and snatched a pen.

_Bezoar._

She waited, looking at her arm for any news. Were the twins alright? Did they manage to cook poison by accident? Harry was frightened.

Soon an answer came.

_My, thank you! You can wash yourself._

_You’re smart! You guessed so fast!_

So, it was their exam. Angry, she went to her basement water place and rinsed the ink before taking a feather. 

_Don’t ever scare me like that again. By the way, teacher, they cheated._

_Noooo! What are you doing?! Erase your arm!_

_Please, Angel! The teachers always look at our arm at the end of the exams! We already have a hard time removing our ink discreetly!_

_What’s the point of giving us an answer if you sell us out after?_

_It’s Forge’s fault! Why are you punishing me too?!_

_They’re going to think we are each other arm pen pal! That mean more supervision during exams!_

_Please! Wash your arm!_

Her arm tickled, tickled and tickled and soon became the usual black mess that the twins made each time she spoke to them. No wonder she never answered them.

_We got a week full of detention!_

_The teachers didn’t believe us when we told them you lied. Can you believe it? They trust you more than us!_

_So unfair…_

* * *

[HpHpHp]

Harry wasn’t allowed to go to Hogwarts. She knows it for years, but still couldn’t familiarise herself with the idea. She never came to terms with the prohibition against halfbloods.

Archie couldn’t go to AIM because Sirius couldn’t stand the idea of his son out of the country, even with his cousin. Sirius enrolled Archie at Hogwarts, hoping he would make the same good memories that he did.

So, they decided to switch.

Days passed and Harry drowned her fear, her excitement, her impatience in brewing and reading the words in her arm. Soon, she’ll be there too. She’ll be at school. Hopefully, not the same as the twins. And she had to decide what to do with them. It would be strange if suddenly _Archie_ was the one being written on. She never tell her parents about the high frequency on which she receive information, but they know she could correspond with her arm pen pal while Archie kept complaining that his didn’t give any sign. Anyway, he intended to write to them on his first day of school. It wouldn’t be too hard to explain why suddenly he got an arm pen pal.

On the other side, pureblood children weren’t suppose to talk with their arm pen pal. And certainly not as much as the twins. It was one of the reasons she thought they must be halfblood. That, and the fact that they have a really big family. Who has seven children nowadays?

Days pass and she let the twins continue. She liked reading their notes. They often complained about her lack of answer, but never stopped talking to her, and treating her with love when they didn’t have the slightest information about her. She didn’t want to lose them if it wasn’t necessary.

On the 1st of September, she followed Sirius with Archie’s face and jumped on the Hogwarts Express, her heart pounding.


	2. Firsts setbacks at Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to murkybluematter for writing the Rigel Black Chronicles !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! Here's the next chapter ! It have been written for months, but he needed to be corrected by some else... One of my friends took pity while hearing me fight with my computer english corrector, and took care of it ! Isn't he sweet ? 
> 
> I finished writing at least the ten next chapters long ago, but I really need someone to pass after me to avoid offend the english language when posting them. Is there someone willing to correct the next one ? You don't need to do a full beta job, just making sure the right word is used each time and it's not a grammatical and orthographic eyesore. My friend took two hours to do this chapter to give you an estimation of the work load...
> 
> Edit : All my thanks to distracteddaydreamer who rolled up her sleeves to give a better face to this chapter ! Thank you distracteddaydreamer !

[HpHpHp]

Harry, now living under the name of Rigel, met Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy, two pureblood heirs with far too much free time. With time to lose, they picked up dubious hobbies - said hobbies including forcing their company and friendship on her. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake their badgering.

There was a _Ron_ Weasley in her class. Didn’t the twins said that their little _Ronny_ was going to their school this year? Plus, he was redheaded. Rigel wanted to ask him if had some older brothers, but she kept the question to herself. Somehow, she was afraid of the answer. She didn’t want to meet the twins. Not as Rigel Black. Not even as Harry Potter, at least for the next seven years. So, she shut up, and put up with Pansy and Malfoy's company.

The second morning, after her walk with Pansy, Rigel sat herself at the Slytherin table and suffered through her year-mates speculating about her. They insinuated that because of her parentage, she couldn’t possibly be well-behaved. Well, it was true that Sirius was already anxiously waiting for her first prank, but it wasn’t Rigel’s specialty. Her specialty was potions, and, if everything went according to her plan, Master Snape was going to find out about that soon.

Zabini smiled at her, an expression incongruous with his calculating eyes. 

"I think most of the professors are waiting anxiously for the practical jokes to begin. And the Weasley terrors have spent every meal since the sorting on the edge of their seats with anticipation."

He turned his head to said Weasleys, and out of habit, Rigel followed his gaze and looked at the table she had been desperately avoiding since she heard the name Ron Weasley during their first class.

Her eyes alighted on two identical redheads and she knew. She had heavy suspicions for a while, but without proof, she lied to herself. _They weren_ _’_ _t here,_ she would think, while reading their words.

But they were here.

She kept her face composed, finished her breakfast and went to class as if nothing happened. The Twins didn’t know. They couldn’t. She just had to made sure they never became too close to her and it would be alright. She‘d just keep a safe, secure distance and it was going to be fine.

* * *

[HpHpHp]

Friday morning, Rigel was taking a shortcut to the Owlery when a body crashed into her.

"Woah!" A young, male voice cried out. "Oi, Gred, there's someone else in here!"

Rigel froze at those words.

_Gred_.

She knew who was there. She didn’t want to meet them. She should have known, they talked about secret passageways before. She should have been more careful. Of course they would wander here.

" _Lumos_ ," one of the twins invoked.

Rigel calmed her heart. Everything was going to be fine. She would just play the part of the uninteresting first year and they would forget about her as soon as they left the corridor. Yes, that was a good idea. She could do that. She needed to do that. Arcturus Rigel Black wasn’t their pen pal, and Rigel had learned too many things in the last two years about them to believe herself able to never let any revealing information slip. She needed to do it. It was a small price for Master Snape’s mentorship.

While she was panicking with a straight face, the Twins had begun talking and tossing and checking her for any injuries.

"… sorry, chap. Forge here has always been the clumsy one."

"Don't listen to him, good fellow. I’m not the clumsy one, _Gred_ is the forgetful one. He forgot that _I'm_ the pretty one, and _he's_ the clumsy one, which is why I usually go first down these stairs and therefore I was the one who ran into you."

Rigel nodded, trying to compose herself. She needed to stop them and leave. Fast. Before her mask crumbled.

"Unfortunately, Forge is also the rude one. I'm Fred, maybe."

"George, likewise."

"And we're the Weasley Twins," they chorused.

"Never heard of you." Rigel blabbered out. She had come up with better lies before, but her mind was elsewhere. Did she still have one of their notes on her arm? She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t had one.

The Twins were amused by her joke and asked for her identity. They had been asking her that question for two years, but, for the first time, Harry answered.

"I’m Rigel."

And it was with a lie.

"Rigel, Rigel," Fred muttered, glancing questioningly at his twin, "Doesn't ring a bell."

It was… strange to feel them so close, yet so far away.

"You sure that's your name?" George asked, "Don't feel too bad, I forget mine's Forge all the time."

"Silly, I'm Forge," Fred said, "I told you he was the forgetful one."

Rigel couldn’t help raising an eyebrow incredulously. That might explain their need to write _their_ names on _her_ arm for the past two years. But they did know they could write on themselves _without_ writing on her, did they?

"Actually, it was your brother who told me that _you_ were the forgetful one. Back when he was Forge instead of you."

"Ah, yes," Fred looked confused for a moment, "Well, I guess he was right, though of course if it was Fred that told you that it might as well have been me. I'm Fred most of the time."

They were twins _and_ crazy. Why did she remove that possibility a year and a half ago? The madness explained why she had such a hard time trying to tell them apart on her arm.

"Clever little thing; are you a Ravenclaw, Rigel?" George asked. He peered at her robes and Rigel realized she hadn't put on her green and silver tie that morning. She had been planning on grabbing it before breakfast.

"I'm a Slytherin," she told them honestly. Maybe that would suffice to get the distance she wanted? It would be ironic if the first real piece of information about _Harry_ she told them _,_ made them run away. 

But instead, their grins got even wider. The sort of grin she expected them to have after all those years.

"Now I know why your mud-colored hair looks familiar," George said, "You're Sirius Black's son, Arcturus."

"And we thought we had trouble with names," Fred shook his head sadly, "You've gone and given yourself a whole new one."

They‘d never know how true that was.

"Rigel is my middle name. But yes, Sirius Black is my father," she lied. They had been offering their souls to her on a silver platter for years, but here she was, destroying their trust in two sentences. It was a good thing they‘d never know. She would make sure of it.

They spoke of the Marauders, and Rigel couldn’t help herself. She got engrossed in the discussion and let herself forget her original purpose, at least for a while. It felt so natural to talk and banter with them. She felt safe.

But she shouldn’t. She wasn’t Harry Potter, the twins’ pen pal. She was Rigel Black, pureblood without any ties to them. She needed to get away. 

"Now if you'll excuse me, I need to mail a letter before breakfast."

The Twins decided otherwise. They forced their presence on her and escorted her to the Owlery. Why everyone decided to ignore her need for privacy, she didn’t know, but it seemed to be a trend at Hogwarts.

So, she made a new plan. Instead of staying completely away and unknown by the twins, she would remain a distant acquaintance. She would not feel too bad for reading their notes, and could meet up with Percy, thank him for the train incident, and likely get help for Flint's homework. If the stories she read about him were true, she would get that help without any difficulty.

* * *

[HpHpHp]

The twins kept on writing on her arm, but Rigel hardly found the time to read their messages. More than once, she felt guilty, finding her arm empty, no trace of whatever they wrote her earlier remaining. Since she couldn’t look at her arm whenever she wished to, she tried to learn to read by feeling the tickling. It was difficult since the feeling wasn’t too intense and vanished quickly, but Rigel didn’t give up. She was desperate. That was a little bit of home, a little bit of Harry, even if that seemed crazy since she ought to be nobody to them. She knew she had a place in their hearts, and — even if she didn’t think she deserved it, big liar that she was — she liked it. It was stupid. But seeing them and having to pretend to be a stranger broke her heart each time. She needed her dose of senseless messages to move forward. The messages reminded her that they hadn't forgotten her, even if she never acknowledged them, either on her arm or in the corridors. Aside from all that, she wanted to be worth the love they had been flooding her with for years. The least she could do, since she never answered, was to read, learn to know them and maybe, one day, pay them back. If they ever had a problem, she would be there. That was what arm pen pals were for.

But that wasn’t the matter at hand right now. No, right now, she had to run away from the library because Sirius couldn’t be a normal student and had to put his name on the Hogwarts’ librarian’s blacklist. Thank you, Sirius.

Deciding it was too late to resolve the library problem, Rigel opted for an early dinner. She headed for the great hall and took the first stairs she found, when her senses honed from growing up with pranksters warned her that something was coming from behind. Immediately, Rigel turned on her heel and protected her head and her face. Her fast reaction seemed to do the job, but she forgot about her bag. She could only watch as her bag was hit by the spell and knocked her off balance, backwards down the stairs.

The fall knocked her out.

When she woke up, it was to sharp pain in her left hand. The strap of her bag had been wrapped around her left wrist, breaking it in the fall. It hurt like hell.

First, she needed to cut her bag strap to free her hand. She should go to her dorm to get a pair of scissors. With some luck, everyone would be at dinner and no one would be here to see her.

Unfortunately, luck was not on her side. Two boys emerged from around the corner, Ron and Neville. They stopped when they saw her, and Rigel tried to behave naturally, sat on the floor as she was.

"Oh, hi Neville, hi Ron. How are you guys doing today?" Well played, Rigel. 

The two Gryffindors gave her skeptical looks.

"We're good," Ron said, "But what are you doing up there?"

"On the ground, too?" Neville added.

Rigel told them a blatant lie about walking and taking some rest. And Neville bought it. But Ron didn’t. The red haired was more perceptive than Rigel gave him credit for. He found all the signs Rigel didn’t manage to erase, listing them one by one. Her pale skin, her gritted teeth and her clenched fists. Neville got worried hearing this, and Rigel told them a poor excuse of missing dinner, which made her a little weak. However, Ron, that budding detective, saw through everything and guessed the truth.

"Hell, you look like you just fell off a cliff-" he broke off, his eyes darting from her, to the stairs behind her, to her, innocently keeping her left arm out of view. "Or down a flight of stone steps. Show us your left wrist, Rigel."

"Oh, no," Neville moaned. "Did you trip?"

"Yeah, sort of," Rigel confessed, pulling her left hand in her sleeve. As usual, Fred and George wrote on her. And, as usual, they must have put in revealing information. With Ron and his undeniable detective skill, that he demonstrated so well, she didn’t give him two minutes before he guessed everything. "I'm really okay, though, so you guys just go back to whatever you were—"

Ron came at her and caught her left forearm faster than she could register. She thought about how to take it back, how to hide her arm from his inquiring gaze, how to get him to back off, when her body acted without her permission, sending an alert from her wrist and rushing to her mouth where a cry escaped from her throat. Ron let go of her with surprise. Rigel took advantage of it, bringing her wrist near her, where she wrapped it in her robe, repressing her tears. She tried to forget the sight of it, its unnatural angle and its purple colour. The pain was already enough to tolerate.

"That's broken," Ron said, having grasped enough to guess the clear truth. "Neville, stay here while I go find a Professor or someone who knows where the Hospital Wing is. I think it's somewhere on the first floor, but it'll take too long to try and find—"

"No!" Rigel gasped out, "No Hospital Wing." The nurse would guess right away that she was a girl, and it would be the end. She would die for less than a week of Master Snape.

They looked at her like she was crazy. Which, in hindsight, she must have been.

"I hate hospitals," she invented, "And doctors, and Medi-wizards and -witches, too." Everyone with a good chance of discovering her gender, in fact.

"Well you can't just leave it like that," Neville said, "It h-has to be set, and healed, right?"

Ron was thinking hard, pacing back and forth as he tried to decide what to do, "Okay, if you won't go get a Professor, then we'll take you back to our Common Room. Percy's there, and he's a prefect. He'll know what to do. Maybe he can set the bone, or something."

Rigel didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to let any Weasley see what was under her sleeve. It was too risky. She had felt the tickle of writing earlier today - what if the twins had written something on her arm that identified them as her pen pals? And, after years of reading what the twins wrote her, she knew they wouldn’t let go of her if they found out. The ruse was already precarious enough; she didn’t want the Weasley attention on top of it.

"I-I’m fine." She wasn’t exactly lying. Her shock was wearing off, letting her brain finally receive the distress signals she wanted to ignore. She needed to leave. "I’ll go back to my dorm."

Ron frowned. "Rigel, you’re in no state to go anywhere."

Shivering, Rigel used her right hand to help her stand up. "Thank you, but I’m fine." Inwardly, she winced. She had to control her voice. Her desperation was showing through. Taking her bag with her right hand, she trapped her left hand to its side.

"You are really sure?" Neville's face was torn with worry.

"I promise you, Percy will not eat you." Ron assured, putting himself in her way to prevent her from leaving.

She didn’t understand the point. In her state, Ron could catch her by crawling. Her face was whiter than paper, her nerves ready to break, but she put a smile. "Thanks for your concern, but I’ll manage." She had yet to discover how, but that was a problem for future Rigel. For now, she felt dangerously close to a breaking point, and she needed to get away. Ignoring Ron and Neville, she tried to push past them, but Ron contiued to press his case.

"You can count on Percy. He acts lordly sometime, but he is a great guy."

Rigel shook her head. She didn’t try to speak anymore.

Ron gave up and let her pass, letting Neville approach her.

"We can escort you to your dorm."

Once again, Rigel shook her head. "No need." She would not go there. It was too far away. She turned her head and began to think of where no one would find her.

"If you change your mind, ask for us to the Fat Lady!"

Rigel would have smiled at Neville’s kind proposal. But all she wanted to do was cry.

She pulled herself into an abandoned wing leaving the boys behind. Opening a secret passageway she remembered from her map, she dragged herself inside and collapsed to the floor to cry. She took three minutes to let her emotions settle to a manageable level, and got a hold of herself. The pain would not magically disappear by itself. She needed to free her hand, but she had nothing to do that, and she couldn’t go to the Slytherin dorm. She was miserable, her eyes red, face pale as a ghost. But she had to get rid of the bag trap as soon as possible. She took her map out to make sure that no one was wandering in the secret passageway, and looked for a way to get anything to break the unbreakable strap.

That sounded stupid, even in her head. She gave up on the strap. She was going to disembowel her bag and untangle the strap afterward.

She opened the torturing object, got a potion knife out and attacked the fabric. She’d have to explain it to Sirius. Not even a week of school and she already needed a new bag. With one hand, ignoring the other, she succeeded in her plan and felt relieved when blood rushed in her hand. Her wrist was still broken, but she was one step farther from having to cut off her hand. One step farther away from the perilous possibility of losing her dream. Not that being one-handed would stop her from becoming a potioneer, but it would make it harder. The whole ruse too. Archie wouldn’t volunteer to cut his hand off for it, would he? 

Finally free, Rigel pulled her sleeve up and brought her arm closer to the candle she got the presence of mind to steal in the corridor. What did the twins write that prevented her from running to Percy to have the upper-classmate to heal her?

_I got a splendid idea of a prank for Percy!_

_Fred_ _’_ _s a liar! It was mine!_

_He is Fred today. What an air-head! But that made his sentence even funnier!_

_He lied! He is Fred today. Meanie!_

No need to be a Weasley, anyone at Hogwarts would have guessed who her _mysterious_ pen pals were.

Devastated, Rigel took a pen in what used to be her bag, before becoming a mess of fabrics, and brought the inked feather above her forearm. She would forever hate what she was going to do, but she needed to. Her broken wrist was bad enough, she didn’t need to bear more secrets. Even if the Weasleys’ notes gave a good explanation as to why she ran away with a broken wrist, she had to get rid of them.

That piece of Harry did not belong on Rigel’s skin.

_Please, delete your comments and do not write on me unless absolutely necessary._

Tears found their way to her cheeks. Rigel closed her eyes, letting her head rest on the stone wall behind her. She didn’t know what hurt more: breaking her link with the Twins or the snide pain of her left wrist.

Speaking of which, she had to write to Archie. To ask him how to heal it. It would take at least two weeks, if Archie answered right away. But he’d surely need time to get a understandable answer out of his teachers. So, two weeks and a half? But what for? She couldn’t do any magic except potions. The reply would be useless. Maybe she could wait a little, until the Twins removed their words, and go see Percy? But what if he told the Twins? It was already bad enough that she left Ron and Neville without asking them to stay silent on the matter. If they told the Twins about her breaking her wrist at the same time as they recieved her message on their arms, they were going to have doubts. She should have waited a little before writing to them.

But it was too late. And waiting may have let her resolve crumble.

She felt a caress on her arm, proving that the Twins obeyed her and erased their words. But then, her arm tickled. She groaned, half-angry, half-happy.

_Why_ _so_ _suddenly?_

_Don_ _’_ _t you like us?_

_Did we bother you? I_ _’_ _m sorry._

_I_ _’_ _m the one who should say this._

_Is something the matter?_

Here they were again, writing on each other. At least, they avoided her note. Where was she supposed to answer? She couldn’t wash up now. And it was too early to go to her dorm. Pansy and Draco would freak out if they saw her in this state. Sick and sad, she took her pen and blindly wrote on the Twins' notes. Together, they may manage to get sense out of it. Or, they could remove what they wrote to read her message.

_I_ _’_ _m sorry, but it_ _’_ _s important for me. Please._

Minutes passed, and she felt the words on her arm disappear, substituted by timid letters. She suspected they were the last they would give her before letting go, explaining their slow writing.

_You don_ _’_ _t make sense_

_Okay, but don_ _’_ _t hesitate if you need help in the future._

_If you change your mind, we are here._

_Take care of you_ _rself_ _._

Tears threatened to fall again when she took the pen. She should have stopped a note ago, but she needed to say one last thing.

_Thank you._

She closed her eyes, a lump in the throat, and fell asleep in the secret passageway.

* * *

[HpHpHp]

She woke up hours later, past curfew, the candle having gone out. The wizards should stop trying to reproduce reality so well. Yes, it was cool, but now, she was in the dark with a broken wrist. And she shouldn’t think about it. Maybe the pain would lessen.

* * *

[HpHpHp]

The pain didn’t lessen. She learned to live with it.

She learned to pretend that her left hand was alright. She learned to get dressed with one hand. She learned to fly with one hand because she couldn’t find an excuse for Draco and loved flying. She learned to transplant with one hand convincingly enough to prevent professor Sprout from prying into the matter. She learned to keep a straight face at the end of the day, even when she became tired of pretending she was okay. 

She kept in a hideous scream when Hannah Abbott fell on her on the stairs leading to the Owlery.

Her meeting with Pansy’s friends passed painlessly, without catching their attention more than she wanted to. At least, she thought so. She lied to Percy. She lied to the Twins when they told her she seemed paler than usual, and made the whole school believe that her complexion at the beginning of the year was due to a holiday tan, her father keeping her under the sun for most of it and that her now pale skin was her true skin colour. She avoided Neville’s worried gaze and Ron’s come-back-to-your-senses glare. She was happy to discover they hadn’t talked about it. Not even to Ron’s brothers. She thanked them for it - then made a hasty escape so she wouldn’t have to deal with them pleading for her to get medical attention. 

When someone attacked her in the stairs and she was saved by a lucky accident with the trick step, she didn’t panic. She made it through Filch’s punishment without discovery. When she was attacked again, after the detention, she just cursed her luck and moved on. The Weasleys got so worried when they learned that she really was assaulted that they insisted on escorting her back to the dungeon where two upper-housemate took their place.

Then, Rigel received a threatening letter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ! I swear, it was suppose to be happy ! But, it will have to wait a little... Harriett wouldn't be Harriett otherwise !
> 
> Anyone's willing to correct the next chapter ?
> 
> Edit : Someone volunteered, thank you !


	3. Aldon Rosier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to PrettyPinkCupcake and distracteddaydreamer for correcting and helping me with this chapter ! I hope you will enjoy it !

[ArArAr]

Aldon Rosier was a pureblood and he understood what that meant pretty early in his life. Everybody bowed to each of his desires, and people fought for his attention.

All of them, except for Edmund Rookwood. He was the only one who didn’t seem to care about Aldon at their first meeting.

So, Aldon fought to be recognized by him. And he succeeded. The challenge diverted him for months and its success sent a feeling of pride in his heart. It was enchanting. The same pleasure hit him each time Rookwood looked at him and talked to him. So, Aldon kept him as his best friend.

Years passed, and no other challengers appeared to him.

None, until his second year at Hogwarts.

That day began like any other day; Aldon woke up next to Edmund, they went to eat their breakfast together, then they went to class.

However, this time, Aldon’s second period got disturbed by an itching feeling on the back of his hand. Aldon lowered his eyes to see what was causing the itching sensation, and caught sight of ink stains on his skin.

As a pureblood, Aldon had been raised to be distrustful of his pen pal. Why would he share any information with a complete stranger assigned to him by unknown means? One who could lie to him from their name to their gender, without Aldon being able to detect it. That would be stupid and idiotic. So, as he was taught, Aldon ignored the myth of the arm pen pal, determined to never contact them.

If his pen pal was a noble pureblood, they would have followed his lead and not ever tried to contact him either. What was the point? If they needed help, Aldon, like any other noble, wouldn’t go to the trouble of helping them. Unless it seemed amusing, but even then, he doubted he would help. He had enough people at his feet because of his name, begging for his help, he didn’t need one more.

He did, however, have time to spare right now, so he read the sentence, wanting to know what made his arm pen pal write to him on his _hand_. Did they want to become his friend? Were they looking for help? Did they want advice? Were they looking for Aldon’s identity?

Aldon had always wondered, if his pen pal did contact him, what would be their first sentence? ‘ _Hi, how are you?_ ’ ‘ _Hi, how old are you?_ ’ or maybe, ‘ _I need to talk, would you listen?_ ’. He thought about hundreds of first sentences in his free time, but he had never imagined this one.

_Neither of you is_

What does that even mean? Did his pen pal write on their hand and accidentally send it to him? Even then, the words don’t make sense to him. Who was his pen pal speaking to if not him? Why did they write those precise words on the back of their hand?

Lost and intrigued, Aldon caught his feather. Maybe he was going to enjoy his pen pal. Maybe he was going to be fed up with them in three days, like he was with most people, but that would mean three interesting days, and Aldon Rosier, bored by life, would happily enjoy those. So he asked them a question:

_Then, are you?_

Aldon didn’t have the slightest idea of what his pen pal was talking about. But it fascinated him that his pen pal had made contact with such a weird opening. He stopped listening to the teacher, waiting instead for the feeling of an answer. Would his pen pal elaborate on the unidentified subject, be surprised by his reply or be ashamed to have inadvertently contacted him after years of silence? Only time would tell him.

Aldon waited, a small smile on his face, ready to play with his unfortunate designated pen pal.

He waited.

And waited.

The next period, Potions, started, where Aldon managed to hide his hand under his sleeve thanks to Edmund covering for him. Aldon didn’t explain his situation, only refusing to use his left hand, but it must have been enough information for Edmund to grasp the situation.

And he waited.

And waited.

That evening, Aldon passed by the Weasley Twins and thought that he was lucky that his arm pen pal only wrote on his hand. He would have more difficulties hiding his face.

The clock kept ticking, and Aldon lost hope in ever receiving an answer. Disappointed, he removed his sentence. Why didn’t he get a reply? His pen pal could have said anything.

On the verge of sleep, Aldon noted idly that the message would have been an appropriate reply to the Weasley Twins’ hideous cheek tattoo. Maybe he was suppose to say it out loud to them so his pen pal could identify him?

As if Aldon would stoop so low. He would be the one to identify his pen pal first. Especially if he was at Hogwarts. It was almost too easy if he was.

* * *

[ArArAr]

Aldon’s arm pen pal didn’t contact him for weeks. Driven by curiousity, Aldon gave in, grabbing his pen and wrote on himself. Maybe it was his turn to open the discussion.

_Quiet, aren’t you?_

Once again, Aldon waited a whole day, but no answer came. He put the problem to one side for a moment, hoping that his pen pal’s curiosity would rise as much as his had.

But either his pen pal wasn’t curious, or they managed to control their curiosity much better than Aldon did.

Two weeks later, Aldon gave up and wrote again.

_I’m bored._

His arm pen pal ignored him. Aldon decided to write some words from time to time, until his arm pen pal answered.

He didn’t needed to. Four days later, when Aldon was doing his homework with Edmund in the Slytherin Common Room, the itching feeling went through his arm. Aldon stayed calm on the surface although internally he was bubbling with excitement. _They_ talked.

"I forgot a book in the dorm." It was a big lie. If he forgot anything, Edmund would just lend it to him anyway. But Edmund knew that Aldon knew that, so he let his friend disappear wherever his curiosity was leading him.

Aldon sat on his bed, checking that none of his room-mates was around, and uncovered his arm.

_Do that again, and I will put all your organs in my cauldron._

That was… violent. Do what again? Write to them? It was four days ago! Did they stay angry for four whole days before answering? And because of a small ‘ _I’m bored’_? And did they really think that Aldon was going to obey them? He wasn’t afraid of such a threat. Did they need four days to come up with that threat? And why were they talking about a cauldron? Who talks about cauldrons? His pen pal couldn’t be Severus Snape, did he? Aldon thought about it, but he didn’t remember any strange behavior from the teacher on the day ‘ _Neither of you is’_ appeared on his hand. And he just couldn’t picture Snape writing it and keeping it a whole day on his hand.

So, Aldon grabbed a quill.

_I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re talking about._

He thought it was a good idea to try to stay in good terms with someone who had the capacity to write on him.

His pen pal never explained themselves. They weren’t the easiest correspondent.

* * *

[ArArAr]

Aldon didn’t speak to his pen pal again. He wasn’t sulking. But this person was ignoring him. And, unlike Edmund, Aldon had no clue of how to deal with them. He had no name, no past, no family tree to rely on, not even the country they were in, apart from the fact that they spoke English. The only thing he could guess was that they didn’t want Aldon to write to them. If that was what the ‘ _Do that again_ ’ referred to. Which, coming from the person who began this and wrote on his hand, was shameless.

* * *

[ArArAr]

Almost a year of silence from _Mister Cauldron_ , as Aldon nicknamed his pen pal, and a long waited for itching went through Aldon’s arm. Aldon was in class, but he didn’t care much. No one was listening to the old history ghost ramble on about goblins and goblin rebellions anyway. He put his forearm under the table and pulled up his sleeve.

_Bezoar_

Just a word? What was the meaning of this? Did Mister Cauldron try to cheat by writing part of their lesson on themself? And then send it to him by accident? Who was studying bezoars? Or poisons? (Why else would you need to know about bezoars?) If Aldon’s memory was right, poisons and bezoars were covered in second year. Bezoars were easy enough to understand and useful, so they made sure everybody knew about it after their second year. Not that anyone enjoyed drinking poison to accompany their meal, but, in their society, no one was too careful. And, that corroborated his hypothesis about the Twins. Merlin, did he get a second year Gryffindor? 

The word washed itself away, and got replaced by something else. Two notes in a row? His arm pen pal was in high spirits today!

_Don’t ever scare me like that again. By the way, teacher, they cheated._

Aldon read the sentence. Then he read it again. Then he read it again.

_Don’t ever scare me like that again. By the way, teacher, they cheated._

Aldon turned white. He had heard about shared arm pen pals once in his life. It wasn’t a widespread situation, mostly because people didn’t talk about it. It was a really bad omen, especially for the person in his position. Either him or ‘ _they_ ’ must have been fated to die young. Maybe he was their replacement. Maybe _they_ were his replacement. His heart sped up. He was feeling sick. That couldn’t be true.

"Aldon, is everything okay?" Edmund whispered next to him, worried.

Aldon forced a smile on his face, hiding his arm beneath his sleeve.

"Yes, sorry to have worried you, Ed."

He didn’t want to share his fear with his friend. It was scary enough by itself. Who was going to die? Why? Would he catch a sickness without a known cure, like the fade, and die?

Aldon didn’t remember much of the rest of that day. Everything felt far away, the world moving around him, and he just felt lost. The whole day, he mindlessly followed Edmund, trying to come to terms with his discovery.

At dinner, where Edmund filled his plate for him, he overheard that the Weasley Twins had been caught cheating on a Potions exam, reported by their mutual pen pal. The idea entertained the whole school for two days, but all Aldon could think about was that, at least, he now understood all the comments from his arm pen pal.

* * *

[ArArAr]

Aldon thought very carefully about his situation. He wasn’t going to let Fate kill him. The Twins were more at risk than him. They were notorious for their experiments; they were far more likely to die young than him. Maybe Aldon was there to console their poor abandoned arm pen pal after the tragedy. That would be a good joke from Fate. Letting Gryffindors break a heart and asking a Slytherin to fix it.

After doing some research later that year and over the summer, Aldon found that not all people with more than one arm pen pal were doomed to die young. Sometimes, some people just needed more than one arm pen pal to help them in life.

That theory make Aldon raise an eyebrow. Were they Mister Cauldron’s knights? It had happened to a high ranked lady in times past. She was in great need of protectors and got four of them. And, because they were four, they all survived by helping each other.

However, Aldon didn’t feel like protecting Mister Cauldron and he felt even less like fighting alongside the Weasley Twins, thank you very much. Plus, fighting for what?

Another theory said that, sometimes, a person had the power to bring happiness to more than one person, so they were given more pen pals because they could deal with them and they were the best option for each of their pen pals.

Again, this tale was about a princess —because who cares about the lives of the mob?— who got three pen pals. They didn’t needed perpetual moral support, but when they needed it, no one else other than the princess could comfort them, according to the story.

Since their pen pal sold out the Twins to the professor Snape, Aldon had some difficulties putting them in this category. But, maybe, Mister Cauldron was there to keep the Twins in check while entertaining Aldon. That could mean no early death, and possibly lots of amusement. Aldon was hoping for this.

But he never forgot Fate’s scythe hanging over his head.

* * *

[ArArAr]

Aldon’s fourth year began normally. This year, their dear friend Pansy joined them in the Slytherin house. Aldon and Edmund gave her some space, so she could befriend some of her year-mates before seeking their company from time to time.

Nothing interesting happened, not that Aldon was expecting anything different from previous years, and Edmund was still trying to figure out what happened to him the year before. Aldon tried to act as if nothing changed, but his best friend was more perceptive than that. Still, Ed was missing too many pieces of the puzzle.

It was on Saturday evening that Aldon’s forearm itched again, after half a year of silence. Strangely for the Twins, they did not get the most talkative pen pal. Aldon took his time finishing what he was writing, before excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

Usually, his pen pal left his messages a whole day, but if the Twins answered right away, he might erase it earlier. Aldon was totally spying on a discussion between Mister Cauldron and the Weasley Twins, but he didn’t care. In his defense, he only had a third of the pieces, and not the most revealing ones. Plus, Aldon had made his presence known in the past, it was entirely Mister Cauldron’s fault if he still hadn’t realised he also had another arm pen pal.

_Please, delete your comments and do not write on me unless absolutely necessary._

Was he finally fed up with the Twins? After two years, Aldon was impressed. Mister Cauldron must be a patient man.

Aldon put his sleeve back in place, thinking that this was the end of the story, when his forearm tickled again. Aldon looked at the new message.

_I’m sorry, but it’s important for me. Please._

The Twins seemed to have some difficulties with the idea of not communicating. That didn’t surprise Aldon at all, but the tone of this message seemed desperate; not angry as Aldon had expected based on the previous message. Was their pen pal in trouble? Because of the Twins’s notes? Maybe his teachers had enough of it. It wasn’t easy to know if a student cheated during an exam if his arm was always black with notes.

Aldon eyebrow raised with surprise when the last message appeared in his forearm.

_Thank you._

The Twins must have shut up now. No more pen pal messages for Aldon then. Not that it was going to change his routine too much. He put his sleeve back in place and returned to the Common Room.

* * *

[ArArAr]

A snakelet got attacked in the dungeon, opening a prank war between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Aldon didn’t cared much, not being a pranking sort of person, but he did enjoy trying to figure out who was doing what.

But not today. Today, Pansy was going to introduce them to her new friend, Rigel Black. Finally. They have been trying to meet him officially for days.

When Aldon and Edmund came back from breakfast, they found Pansy waiting for them with two pureblood heirs. She stand up, asking her friends to follow her lead.

"Mr. Rookwood, Mr. Rosier, how good of you to join us," Pansy began. "You have met Mr. Malfoy, I believe? Then, may I introduce my classmate, Rigel Black?" She gestured towards a black haired young man with grey eyes and pale skin. "Rigel, this is Aldon Rosier and Edmund Rookwood."

Being the first to have been introduced, Aldon stepped forward to shake the first year’s hand.

"How do you do, Mr. Black?" He wasn’t really asking. He didn’t need the kid’s medical or other history, his question was basic courtesy.

"Very well, thank you," Black answered politely.

Pansy, as the host, sat first, followed by Malfoy. Black stayed politely standing, so Aldon and Edmund sat down before he did. It was a mark of respect that Aldon enjoyed. Even if he usually get bored by those pretty fast. But for a first meeting, he would go along with it.

Aldon took the place closer to Black, noting that his left hand was missing from view. Did he too have an arm pen pal who didn’t understand the _arm_ part of the title? Was his hand black with ink? Then again, Aldon’s pen pal was excused from writing on an unusual place, since he must have walked around for a whole day with "I’m the best!", "No, it’s meI!" on his face. _Having the Weasley Twins as pen pals_ was an excuse in itself. 

They exchanged pleasantries, learned that Black hoped to pursue a Potions Mastery and had already obtained extra tutelage from Professor Snape. Then they left and Aldon couldn’t repress the urge to send a wink at Black promising to see him again. He liked teasing people.

After that meeting, Aldon talked with Edmund about the boy, Rigel Black. He seemed an okay sort, but the formal introduction didn’t give them enough information. As Sirius Black’s son, they expected certain things from the boy, but didn’t get any of them.

Black wasn’t too loud, too charming or too talkative. He didn’t correspond to the image Aldon had previously made. Being in Slytherin already showed a big divergence from his Father’s beliefs, but it didn’t seem to be a return to his family origins.

The Black kid was weird, and Aldon and Edmund were worried for their little Pansy. The poor angel was too kind for her own good, and it was Aldon and Edmund’s job to protect her from poor company. Rigel Black may not be the best year-mate she could have befriended; he might bring trouble. His intentions remained a mystery, and neither Aldon nor Edmund could allow him to stay around their little Pansy while knowing so little.

Thus, together, they decided to test the boy. To see if, at least, he personally planned to use their little Pansy. Black had been out of society since he was a year old, and he needed someone to introduce him back to their world. Aldon and Edmund were just going to make sure he didn’t plan to use Pansy to social climb and discard her once he no longer needed her.

For that purpose, they sent him a threatening letter on the last week of September.

**_Mr. Black,_ **

**_Be at Greenhouse Four by sundown, or everyone will know your secret._ **

**_Come alone._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first, thanks a lot to Kitsunerei88 for Liar Liar, that helped me have a characterization of Aldon, and putting myself a little more in his shoes to write him.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter even if we don't see Harriett much !
> 
> I hope to see you soon !

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you had a good time reading it !


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